


My Dark Sun

by Cozed15



Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Markiplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-07 13:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17961065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozed15/pseuds/Cozed15
Summary: Dark knows he’s going to live forever, or at least for a long time. And he thought Wilford would live out those days with him, until he finds out the terrible truth that the pink show host is aging.





	1. All Suns Die Out

“You’re lying.” An angry pink man stormed through the halls of the Manor. The bichromatic man sighed.

“I’m not lying Wil. See for yourself.” They both went into the bathroom, Wilford leaning over the counter and putting his face super close to the mirror. He let out a small gasp. 

“Good god. Dark, you were right.” Wil whispered.

“Obviously.” Dark muttered. His frantic boyfriend spun around to face him. 

“I’m not that old though! I stay fit!” Wil exclaimed, his hands on either side of his face. 

“Staying fit doesn’t have anything to do with wrinkles, Wil.” Dark pointed out, knowing full well that him stating that that fact didn’t help the pink game-hosts mind-set. “And anyways, you are 48 now Wilford, this is normal.”

The other just whined in response. “But you know I don’t like normal.” He moves his hands away from his face and onto his partners shoulders. He stomped his feet and pouted. “Aging is a little bitch.” He moved a hand onto Dark face, tracing all the areas where he should’ve had wrinkles. “Why don’t you look old?” 

Dark pat Wilfords hand, taking it into his and walking out of the bathroom. “First of all, I physically can not age. Second of all, you don’t look old.” Wilford raised his eyebrows, giving him the ‘I’m not buying your bullshit’ face. “Just... not… young.” Dark cringed at how he phrased that.

“Dark, honey, light of my life. One thing I love about you is how beautifully you put your words together. This is not one of those times.” Wilford sighed and ran a hand across his face, as if he were trying smooth out his wrinkles. 

“Okay. Then how is this. You look handsome. No matter what you look like I will always love you. Better?” He asked with a grin. Wilford smiled, giggled then planted a kiss on his handsome lovers cheek. 

“Very much so!” 

Four years later.

“Dark!” A yell echoed through the hall, causing the dark-haired ego to spin in his chair then hop out of it. His candy colored lover stormed into the room, looking frantic. “Dark! Something terrible has happened!”

Dark grabbed his arm and looked over Wilfords shoulder, incase said danger followed him. “What?! What is it?!” 

“No! Not behind me you dingus! Look!” He turned Dark back towards him, tilting his head down and flattening out his hair, to show grey roots coming through his hair. “This. Is. A. Tragedy.” Groaned the ego. Dark moved Wil’s hands away, tilting his head back up to face him. 

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, okay? Breath.” Dark moved Wil’s hair back out of his face. His wrinkles were all more obvious now, and even his mustache had a few grey strands… “This is not a tragedy. What’s a tragedy is the heart-attack you almost gave me.” 

“Sorry, I just-“ The eccentric ego huffed, calming down from the touch of the others hand. 

“We talked about this before, remember?” 

“Yeah, but,” the pink ego placed his hand on his hips, “I’ve heard that people get gray hairs from stress.”

Dark rolled his eyes and placed his hands behind his back, leaning forward a bit, “Then you must be extremely stressed about growing old, Wil.” He let a small smile appear on his lips, “and think of it this way, now that it’s lost its color it will be easier to dye.” 

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” 

“Obviously.” The monochromatic man said with his small smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. Wilford smiled back at his love, running his hand through his hair, the light pink and grey strands turning hot pink in its wake. Wil winked and wiggled mustache, making the light pink color hiding the grey ones. Dark raised an eyebrow. “And what of your wrinkles?” 

Wil shook his head. “This,” he said, waving a hand into front of his face, which only made the more obvious ones disappear, “is the best I can do.” 

Dark looked into the older looking egos eyes, hiding his pain for what was going to come with sympathy. He ran his hand across Wilfords face, the part he touched desaturating and smoothing. The other just smiled in return, “See I knew you didn’t think they looked ‘handsome.’” The candy themed man complained.

“No,” Dark replied, his other hand slipping around Wil’s waist, “I just wanted to make you smile again.”

Nine years later. 

“Wil.”

“What?” The Show host snapped, struggling to tie his bow-tie with shaking hands. 

“Are you sure you want to go back?” Dark stood next to him, watching as the other tried to dress himself. He had tried helping previous days, but Wilford would deny it, eventually give up then end up just stay home.

“Yes. It would be absurd to let myself skip work another day.” He groaned in frustration as the bow came undone in his hands again. Dark sighed and turned Wilford around, the other letting him help this time. The old ego couldn’t hide his wrinkles anymore, and could only make his hair an extremely faded pink. 

“Wil. Your type of work requires a lot of… energy.” The grey ego didn’t approve of Wilfords work, and yet again it’s not Wil’s fault he ended up doing what he did. It’s your fault Dark thought to himself. “Have you at least considered retiring? We could spend more time together.” He moves his hands from the tie and up to Wil’s face. “For me?”

The pink host had stopped going to work since he collapsed suddenly in the middle of his game “Disc of Riches”. It wasn’t until this week that he had started getting out of bed despite Darks protests and persuasions, which, much to Darks frustration, didn’t seem to work on Wilford anymore. Unless he pulled the ‘Do it for me card’, it seems.

Wilfords shoulder sagged and he sat back down on the bed. “Fine. Fine. That show was dying anyways I guess…” The tired ego pulled on the bow around his neck, undoing it, and tossing it onto the floor. Dark sat down next to him, and slowly pulled Wilford into his arms. They sat there in silence, until he heard the 61 year old fall asleep. The forever working ego let him lie down, gingerly taking off his suspenders, and boots, then undoing his cuffs. He laid a kiss on his dearly beloved, before tucking him into the covers of their bed. 

Six months later. 

Dr. Iplier had finally convinced Dark to then convince Wilford to having monthly check-ups. As the doctor left their room, Wilford groaned for the tenth time. “I still don’t understand why this is necessary.” 

“We talked about this last time.” Dark said, keeping his patience. 

“Did we? Maybe I’m so fucking old that I’m getting alzheimer's too.” He grumbled, slowly getting off of the examination table and starting to change into his clothes. Dark laughed. 

“Trust me. If you had Alzheimer’s I’m fairly sure I would know by now.” He helped Wilford into his clothes. They had to come early this months because the pastel themed ego found that he could no longer manipulate his appearance, or even just the immediate area around him. He was just a crazy old man now to the other egos. Not that they weren’t getting old either, most of them anyways, but at least they accepted it. 

Four weeks later

All of this hurt the dark ego. It hurt more than the dislodged vertebrae in his neck. More than any wounds any he’d ever gotten. This whole time he had been telling Wil that he was getting old, but never did he ever use the words ‘die’ or ‘dying’. So the pain he felt the morning he walked into the old egos bedroom to find him crying, further cracked his already broken heart. 

He set down the breakfast-tray on the closest surface and rushed over to his side, grabbing the others hand with one hand and cupping his face to try to dry his eyes with the other. “William? What’s wrong?” 

The former show-host looked at him, barely able to see the features of Darks face through the blurriness of his tears and how bad his vision had gotten. “Dark I…” he sobbed, his chest heaving from crying so badly. “I don’t want to die.” He sobbed into Darks hand, holding his hand on top of the others. 

“Well, you do remember how the house works…” Dark started but Wilford shook his head. 

“No, no it’s not exactly that,” he took in a deep breath, as if that sentence alone made him winded. “It hurts so much. My bones, my eyes, my heart and my mind.” Dark listened to him, softly wiping away the tears from his lovers face. “I-I just don’t want to leave you.” The dying man sobbed, “I can’t even see your eyes.” 

Dark sat down on the edge of the bed, getting close to Wilfords face. “But you can see me. That’s why I love you. You always saw me for who I was. Not who I- who we became.” 

William let out a small rasping laugh, “I’m more than glad to say the same to you.” He paused and looked past him, at a silver blur. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he knew it was his gun. “Dark?”

“Yes dear?” The grey ego responded softly. The sad expression on his face had deepened, an expression not expected to be found on the suites mans face.

“Promise me-” he drew in a sharp breath, “Promise me that when I die-”

“Please don’t talk of that yet.” Dark begged, fear creeping into his heart. Not that he didn’t know that it was to come for a long time now, but at the fact that the thought was now haunting William too. 

“Dark.” The trembling ego took hold of the others hands, holding on as firmly as he could. “Promise me, that when I die, you won’t act rash. That you won’t let it break you even more.” He rasped. It was getting harder to breath. “And that I will be buried, far out of the reach of this Manor.” Wil knew exactly what he was asking. Which is exactly why he didn’t ask Dark to take him away himself. “Please?”

Dark moved his eyes away from Wil’s, well aware of the consequence of his wish. Despite the clenching feeling in his chest, the dark haired man nodded, squeezing the others hands in return. “I’ll do and have done everything for you.” He promised to stay by his side, and that’s exactly what he has done. Dark has done a lot of people wrong, including William, and had a lot of regret built up in his heart and mind. But the last few years have are nowhere on that list. “You know I love you. So. Much. Right?”

William chuckled, “Of course. Why else would you spend so much time with someone like me?” The desaturated egos thoughts lingered to how long that Dark still had. If his path even came to an end. “I’ll wait for you.” His expression turned melancholy. “All suns die out eventually, right?” 

Dark smiled warmly and nodded, his throat tight. As much as the entity didn’t want this to happen, there were somethings that were painfully out of his power. He moved his hands up to Williams face, feeling how soft it had gotten, staring into his eyes knowing that he couldn’t see his. 

“And Dark?” He needed to say this. God, how he wishes he had said it more in his short and cursed life. How he wished he had more time. It hurt him to leave. It hurt more than his aching bones. More than anything that age had done to him. This whole time Dark was telling him about how old he was getting, and never once did it occur to William how little time left he had to tell Dark what he meant to him. 

“Yes, Wil?” The suited ego asked softly, hand still on his love’s face. 

William breathed in, wanting speak with strength he knew he didn’t have. Then a sharp pain sliced through his heart, cutting his breath short. A physical, horrible pain that stung his eyes with tears the instant he knew what it was. No! He looked into Darks eyes as he tried to force himself to breathe, only managing short, rasping breaths. Dark! Dark no, I love you I’m so sorry, I love… you… Then he exhaled once and the darkness took over his vision. 

Williams breathing faded away. His eyes glazed over, still looking at Dark. He never thought about it, what Williams eyes would look like if it completely lost their beautiful light. The light that had guided him with purpose and love. Yet, there it was. The emptiness was looking back at him, once again. “Wil?” He asked quietly, although he knew. “William?” His voice broke, and he heard them. The dichromatic man heard the red sister weep and the blue brother sob. A sharp inhale, and he cried. The stern, cold-hearted, head of the Manor wept. Silently, not wanting attention drawn towards him, and although he was silent, the dark siblings were not. Dark hunched over and rested his forehead against Williams, I love you too… 

He let the darkness close in around him, feeling the area around him shift into a void that whispered into his ears. He slowly moved to Williams hands, holding onto them as if he were clinging onto them for his life. Only then, did he let loose scream, letting out the broken feeling that shook him to his core. His body heaved as he cried, his hands almost begging for the others to move again.

“Dark.” 

The dark haired ego froze. He shot up and spun around, enraged to be caught grieving like that, but the anger vanished in an instant when he saw who had spoken his name. “William?” He asked, practically trembling. All signs of what- of who he had become were gone. His pink hair and mustache had been restored to their natural dark brown color, his old glasses resting on his nose. Without a second thought, he pulled the colonel into his arms.

The restored ego buried his face into Darks neck, speaking quietly, “I only have a few hours-”

“I know.” Dark replied softly into Williams hair, “I know just,” breathing out and closing his eyes, he let all of his senses sink into the embrace. The more he thought about it, the more he realized they haven’t shared a moment like this for a long time. “Just give me this moment.” 

Neither of them knew how long they stood there, just feeling each other’s presence. They were like this until William spoke. “I love you.” He choked out. Dark hadn’t realised that William had started crying.

“I know, and I know that you will wait for me.” Dark responded, the memory of Williams words stuck with him more than anything else. 

“You waited for me. It’s only fair.” He pulled away and looked into Darks eyes. The monochromatic ego looked at all the details of Williams face, and listened carefully to the sound of his voice, memorizing them. Finally, reluctantly, he slid his arms down Williams, holding onto his hands. “I’ll remember you, like I promised. I forgive you. I love you.” These words rang out in the air as the normal world came back around him. Leaving Dark staring at a wall. He turned back to the corpse. Sitting down he began his work, repigmenting Williams hair, adding more color to his skin, and dressing him in his yellow button up shirt, red suspenders, and brown pants. 

The other egos took the death hard. A few had died already, while the rest were like the entity, or old. Bim, of course, wept and offered to help carry the coffin. Joel surprisingly helped too. Dark knew full well that it wasn’t for him, but for Will. The Googles took the last four handles, most likely taking more of the weight away from the the two older men in front. As a part of Bims idea, they all dressed in full black suits with pink ties. Dark walked as far as he could, right to the edge of the houses territory, then watched as they carried the last human part of him away.

He went and stood there for days to come. No one else saw him do anything else in his free time, but just stand there, gazing out into the distance. Some egos swore they saw him on his knees, aura splitting, weeping, but they wouldn’t dare bring it up around him. No less than a week later, Dark was standing at the edge of the field, arms behind his back, he heard footsteps approaching him, even steps shifting past the dead leaves. 

“It’s almost his time too.” Dark looked over at who approached him. The Host turned his head towards him as well, as though he could read Darks expression through visionless eyes. Of course, Dark held his expressionless face, but was still slightly surprised at this visit. “Joel… although, unlike you, I would be able to visit him after.” 

“Your point?” Dark growled. The blind ego kept his stance. 

“I can help you.” Only then did he turn his head back towards the forest. “I know you’re thinking there is no way of extending the Manor’s reach without also extending its power, but you did this to me, after all.” Dark narrowed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering whether he was really just here to blame him for not being able to age with his husband. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for them.” 

The reality bending egos stood there in silence for a few minutes. “Thank you.” He didn’t want to say anything else to The Host. Not out of hate for him, but hate for himself.

“You could never be direct could you?You’re welcome…” The slightly shorter ego sighed. “It was at this moment, that the reaches that Darkiplier could walk extended. The path wound to his lovers grave, where there he could grieve in his lonesome. However, none of this new area could be affected by any of the dark entities of the Manor.” The Host drew in a sharp breath, hand darting to the new blood on his face. Without another word, he turned heel and left back towards the house. Dark looked down at his feet, feeling the pull and resistance of the Manor. He took a step forward, a breath of relief and gratefulness leaving him. Another step. Then another. Soon he was walking, each step faster than the next, and soon the suited ego found himself running until he stumbled up Williams grave. 

William Warfstache  
1989-2051  
A man whose soul was dedicated to love those around him. 

He fell to his knees in front of the grave. The dark siblings appeared on either side of him. Celine, legs folded beneath her, hands wrapped around her, tears starting to streak her cheeks. Damien, sitting in a similar position, his hands clasped in front of him, also crying, the occasional sob breaking through. 

Dark closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting the tears flow freely from his eyes, knowing full well, that Wilford would have to wait, for a very very long time. As far as he was concerned anyways. After all…

All suns die out...


	2. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark buries the last ego, and is faced with the bottomeless put that is immortality.

The suited man noticed the approaching of steps shifting through the dead leaves before he saw who caused the noise. It wasn’t autumn, but the effect the house had over time slowly killed all life around it. As well as everything in it, it seemed. 

“I'm done." The dark ego blinked at the stone before him, a calm reaction compared o the slight confusion he really felt.   
"Done? As far as I am concerned you weren't working on anything.” He sat back on his knees, only now noticing how tense he had gotten.   
"Exactly. I'm not doing anything. The googles have been offline for weeks now, them being my last piece of true company and Joel-" The Host cut himself off as his voice broke, refusing to show weakness to the other, even after all these years. 

Dark looked up at the Host, who was facing another tombstone, the most recent one, and by the way the ego was acting, it wouldn’t be the last. "You know one thing that annoys me, Host?" The dark entity stood up, staring at the words carved into the gravestone for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away from it. Which was just hard as believing he could go beyond the reaches of the Manor. Still, he turned and studied the man before him, who was beyond 70 years old, yet he still looked as if he were still at the young age of 27. "The fact that you and... any reality bending entity seem to like playing it vague. If you wish for death, just tell me." Dark, being who he was, had the strong want to smirk at The Host, although, for maturity sakes, he refrained from doing so.

“I don’t merely wish for death. Knowing that people like… you exist, that gives me further knowledge that my husband is up there somewhere, and it seems that death is the only path to him.” He tilted his head towards Dark, as if he could see him. 

When the storyteller came to the graveyard, he would sit directly in front of the physicians grave, bowing his head and whispering quietly, his fingers tracing the words engraved into the stone. “There’s nothing left for me in life.” He turned back to Dark, one hand slowly pulling off the bandages on his face. “Believe me It surely doesn’t bring me joy, putting my life in your hands.” His empty eye sockets would normally bore into any normal person, seen as terrifying debths that have been through so much. Been through too much. Dark knew this, but he didn’t feel the debths, for his debths were far deeper. “I have tried other ways to send myself to the afterlife.” Dark raised an eyebrow, faking his surprise. 

Of course, the entity knew about Owens attempts to take his life. From forcing a bottle of pills down his throat, to swinging from a noose, all but failed. Dark was able to feel each time the House healed his wounds, and brought him back to this hell. All the pain of his wounds staying with him, making his stay all the more miserable. The pitiful man even tried killing himself beyond the reaches of the Manor. But Dark, the man that he used to be, and possibly still was, tooo every precaution to keep the broadcaster alive. The Host was made to everlastingly tell his stories. 

A disgusted, almost regretful look passed over Owens face. “Unfortunately, me dying by your hand seems to be my last option.” Dark has brought so much pain into this mans life, physical, mental, spititual. He had been almost surprised he didn’t turn out like… Dark cast a glance at Wilfords grave, unwillingly letting a worried look onto his face. “Don’t worry, Dark,” He said, forcing his name like it was revolting on his tongue. He felt satisfied feeling in him from the look on his torturers face. 

“If that’s what you want. Then…” Dark raised his hand. Should he apologize for what he had done in the past? For making him suffer for so long? The Host nodded, and with a quick snap of the eternal egos wrist, Owen’s head snapped violently to the side with a loud crack and his body fell limp onto the leaves. A quick death for a long life.

Blood started trickling out of his eyes and mouth, onto the orange and brown leaves that fluttered, disturbed around him. Dark stared at the corpse, the knowledge of how alone he had truly become settling into his mind. He moved his fingers to snap, to put the body into the ground, but he stopped. The narrator had argued with him to bury his spouse the ‘natural way’ with shovel and labor. Of course, he didn’t have enough time to make a coffin, so he put him in one with a snap. Then, slipping off his coat, the entity rolled up his sleeves and formed a shovel in his hands. Not that the dichromatic corpse could really break a sweat, but he felt more comfortable this way, forcing the shovel into the ground and starting to dig. Like the rest of the woods, the soil was dead, hard and nearly colorless, barely sustaining the pale yellow grass above it.

He dug until he was sure the hole was big enough for the coffin and the sun was near the edge of the sky. He lifted himself out of the hole, and with one wave of his hand, he was lowering the box into the ground. Eyes towards the setting sun, he shoveled the dirt back into the hole, slowly making the brown wood disappear behind the grey dirt. Dark thought of nothing but the task at hand, gaze barely avoiding the many other gravestones littering the field, then when he was done, making one for the storyteller. He had nothing to say, so he put the same thing that was on Joel’s stone, but slightly modified: “A loving husband with a great mind that should’ve been put to greater purpose”. 

The man turned back to his former lovers stone. How long do you have to wait, my Love? Are you even still looking out for me, awaiting for me to appear? Again, grabbing his suit jacket, he forced himself to turn and head back toward the house, still unseen and unnoticed by the rest of the world. It wasn’t fair, truly. He hated sitting around, doing basically nothing, and with him being the only one left, there wasn’t going to be any background noise. Just him, and the Manor. It had been a while since he retreated into the void. After a while, Celine and Damien had fallen silent, and something inside him feared they weren’t even there anymore. Everyone left him, eventually. 

As he entered the house, he remembered how chaotic it used to be. Walking down the hallways, he still expected to bump into an over excited Bim, or an Android with too many emotional issues. He expected to hear the creaking of wood as the house messed with the other egos, some sort of crying or laughter behind doors. It hurt him the most, to walk into his room. He barely left it, ever since he became the only inhabitant of the dim-lit chamber. He spent time on the piano, letting the sound ring out through the Manor, knowing that The Host and his newly acquaintanced androids could hear it. He sat at the black wood bench, setting his fingers on the first notes of a song he hadn’t dared himself to play. But now he poured into the song, the tempo just a little to fast, letting his rage, sadness, loneliness spill into the notes. They came naturally to him, so the song flowed naturally, same as the tears which ran down his cheeks. A few notes before the song was over, he slammed his fists down onto the piano, his precious instrument which he cared for so delicately. Hunched over, Dark cried into his hands, feeling his aura break and cover all the walls of his room, cyan and red moving violently around him. He spent a few minutes like this, taking his time to calm down. He didn’t care if the house saw how broken he was. It could feel it. 

After he was done, he sat there, staring at his feet and the pedals. The red and blue of his aura barely surrounded him, clinging to his frame. His broken, damaged frame. He looked up slowly, and caught sight of the mirror beyond the piano. Then the charismatic ego frowned. Getting up, Dark cautiously approached the mirror, running a hand through his hair, to reveal grey roots peeking through. He froze. His age had barely mattered to him, since Wilford was really the only one who kept track of it. But know, after 70 something years, the monochrome entity seemed to be showing signs of age.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the first one in a while to actually stay there. He stood up straighter, and shrugged on his jacket, for there was no time to waste. Time was limitless to the entity, but now, he knew what he had to do. He turned towards the door, thinking of the list of things he had to do. How much time left to do them. 

Dark strode forward, now filled with purpose, something new driving him towards a new goal. I’ll see you soon, my heart, my love, my only purpose. I’ll see you, when my   
sun sets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark settles the last of his business in preparation for his not so soon death

The being clutched onto the staff in his hands. No fear, or regret for the spirit that he had trapped in the mirror. He felt their eyes follow him until he was out of sight. He could hear the madman wander the halls of the manor. He felt something, an echo of emotions that should have been. Sympathy, guilt, pity. He brushed them aside, feeling the rooms twist around him to lead him to the room that was once the egotistical actors office. He knew the colonel wouldn’t… couldn’t find his way to the office through the manor. The manor was his.The manor belonged to the being… and the being belonged to the manor. He glimpsed a figure move in the mirror on the wall. It was the broken pieces of Damien and Celine left behind. The good pieces. He felt the corrupted and more wicked pieces of them that were stolen for the dark house entities purposes. But he wasn’t the entity anymore. He wasn’t Celine or Damien either. He approached the mirror, sharp gaze pinned on the dull and fading frame of the two souls. Soon they would be nothing. So what was he? He eyed the mirror, and grinned. A cold, emotionless grin, devoid of any true joy. Almost sarcastic. This thing he was, he was not one thing, nor three. “I. I am Dark.” He whispered into the mirror, his deep voice coming out as a growl, a snarl, something monstrous. He took the head of the staff in his hand and slammed it into the mirror. He felt the vengeance for what had been done to the two lost souls burn inside him. He felt the power inside him, more power than any one or any thing in this cursed manor could’ve imagined. Despite that he felt the hunger for more power. It was time to do something about it, all of it.

Dark went on to discover more and more about the terrible and incredibly powerful things he could do. Hop between dimensions, timelines and universes, bring beings similar to him to life. His favorite ability was how easily he manipulated people. 

But that was a long, long time ago. His goal was over a long time ago. Everything he made disappeared a long time ago. All the Marks had died a long time ago too. He really was alone. 275 years, 8 months, and 14 days had passed since Wilford died. He kept track, even on days with nothing to do. He’d sit in front of Wilfords grave, for hours, days, weeks. Dark lay on his side, staring at the empty part of his bed. He never slept, never needed to, but he had to admit he missed ‘sleeping’ and waking up next to Will. Dark from a long time ago would have laughed at him. What he felt for Wilford wasn’t natural for a thing like Dark. But Celine had been ashamed of the love she felt for William. How powerful it was. Hence, being a bad emotion, Dark shared it. He pushed it down with everything he had. Love was weakness. That’s what he used to think. He used to think of Wilford as stupid, weak, useless, and an imbecile at times. He couldn’t help those feelings either. He wasn’t exactly made to feel otherwise. But now regret filled the once charismatic ego. He had done everything he meant to do with his existence. The monochrome man had successfully cloaked the huge Manor was the world shifted and changed around it. Once the dark being left this horrible world, the manor would be exposed. Dark knew the entity that he had once been would stay behind, watching over the manor, looking for new victims. Nothing on the grounds could be destroyed, including the graves. Especially the graves. He did not think himself as deserving of a grave, so once he was gone, his physical form would be disposed of into the upside down. The things the other egos left behind gathered dust in their offices, the googles gathering dust in their hubs, their kind of technology falling far behind the times outside the manor. He sat up. There was one more thing for him to do after all. He might not feel any guilt at all for the district attorney he had trapped in that cursed mirror so so long ago, but he could do one more thing. Dark would prepare the district attorney for the manipulative entity that would stay with them. Possibly tell them to watch over whoever inhabits the manor next. 

The further greying man walked down the halls of his manor. He wouldn't go so far as to say it was his home. It birthed him and his rage. He continued down the hall, feeling the halls shift around him and lead him to the cracked mirror, still hanging on the wall. He closed his eyes and felt the air shift around him, the light behind his eyelids dimming. The ego opened his eyes to the upside down, and to the district attorney. They must have seen him walking through the other mirrors and reflective surfaces of the house. “Dark. It’s been a while.” They paused. Dark knew if he wanted to do this correctly he would have to let the soul talk. Y/A hesitated, observing Dark, because the dark ego being silent like this clearly unnerved them. They sighed. “I say ‘I’m sorry’, or something but…” Y/A looked away. “I’m not sorry for you. I’m sorry for everything I lost because of you.” Their hand drifted to their stomach. There was still a hole in the attorneys suit. “For William, Celine,” Y/A’s eyes snapped back to Dark. The face he wore used to be the face of their friend, “Damien.” Their hands went back into the black jackets pockets. “But I assume you’re not here for any of that.”

Dark nodded, eyes stuck on the Attorney. “No. It’s not. I’m going to… be gone soon. I came to inform you about all that will happen after my passing.” 

The other squinted in exaggeration. “I see. You look nice with the whole salt and pepper look.”

Dark rolled his eyes. Although, it was slightly comforting to know that someone else saw that he was aging and that his eyes or the house wasn’t playing tricks on him. “My body will be left here. Like Marks. It will be nothing but a husk. However, the dark entity that started all of this, will stay behind while the rest of my essence will…” I’ll be with him again. “Well, the parts of Damien and Celine will go find their other half. Wherever they are. I cannot say whether or not those souls will be what they would’ve been if this whole ordeal never happened, but-”

“You’re hoping they will be.” A small smile crossed their lips. “Don’t think me a fool, Dark. I knew how Celine felt about William the second I saw here in this cursed place. I just wish I could’ve warned her away.” They averted their gaze, suddenly looking guilty. “I wish I could’ve warned them all away.” The attorney snapped back to reality. “And you’re telling me this why?”

Dark looked around. “I need you to look after this place while I’m gone. If you think I’m bad, the entity by itself is worse. You need to make sure no one else falls into its traps.” Again, Dark knew this is where most would feel guilty for doing the things they’ve done. But he didn’t. The attorney tapped their foot, rolled their neck, as if considering what Dark had just told them. He grimaced when they rolled their neck, because he felt it too, and resisted this urge to fix his own annoying vertebrae. It wasn’t as if they had a choice. If they did nothing, whoever came to own this place would fall the same fate that the attorney, the mayor, the seer and and the colonel did. They sighed, “Ok. ANd about when will that be?” They asked. Dark shrugged, neatly folding his hands behind his back, giving himself a chance to comfortably fix his neck with a swift head twitch. He saw Y/A shudder. 

“I’m hoping soon. But then again soon could take a while for me, so keep your fingers crossed.” Dark nodded at Y/A and closed his eyes, feeling the air shift around him again. He opened them, and he was standing in front of the mirror again. He saw his aura cast blue and red light on the walls of his manor behind him. He also saw that he had wrinkles, and grey speckled his hair and beard. 

“All suns die out eventually, right?” That’s what William had asked him. William had been the explosion that set Celines life spiraling, and Wilford had been the anchor when Dark though he really would forever be unredeemable. Wil was his supernova.

Now there really was little more for Dark to do than wait. Wait for death. Wait to be free of his broken frame. Wait to be free of this cursed manor. Wait for him. Wait for Wilford.


End file.
